


A Different Kind of Spark

by hylian_stardust



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Backstory, Childhood Memories, Coming of Age, Gen, Headcanon, Oneshot, Pokemon Battle, Pokemon Fanfiction, Pre-Canon, Pre-Game(s), Single Parents, Young Guzma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11177547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hylian_stardust/pseuds/hylian_stardust
Summary: A young trainer finds a wimpod on an Alolan beach and battles another young trainer much like himself many years later.





	A Different Kind of Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe not the most original idea for a oneshot, but I've been wanting to write Guzma ever since I got Moon at launch. He needs hugs okay ;~;  
> Anyways, hope you all enjoy. <3

A tall, slender boy of about 11 years bounded his way down the rickety wood steps, almost stumbling in his excitement. He twirled on his heel as he turned around a corner, a spring in his step emphasizing his youthful energy. An older man's voice yelled from a room further back in the house. 

"Guzma? Where d'ya think you're going?"

The boy called out behind him carelessly. "T'catch a wimpod, dad! The tide's low now and you can get'm on the beach if you try!"

"A wimpod? We don't have a Pokéball to our name, boy! You s'pect me to be payin' for all that nonsense? And besides, wimpod's are a tricky kind to go after. Doubt you'd manage to knick one even if I bought ya th' whole store's worth of balls."

Guzma skidded to a halt as his hand closed around the doorknob. His shoulders slumped slightly at remembering that he couldn't really be considered a real trainer. At least, not without real Pokéballs to catch real Pokémon with.

His silver hair fell in front of his face as he stared down at his well worn sandals. Guzma expected yet another long, hot winded rant about how battling and training was a waste of a man's valuable time.

He knew this was because his father had spent his family's savings on becoming a trainer before he was born, and that his father had never really had a gift for commanding or connecting with the creatures. The fact his mother had left them both not long after he was born was a testament to his father's failure at that.

Still, it didn't keep Guzma from trying. He had seen what trainers could do if they worked hard enough. Though having the best equipment definitely helped, the skill was always in the trainer's hands. No special moves or rare items could replace the bond that a person built with their Pokémon. He wanted to experience it for himself.

His ears pricked at his father's audible sigh, their old armchair squeaking slightly.

"... Oh, what the heck. Give it a shot. Who knows, maybe you're a luckier young'un than I was."

Guzma's face lit up with a smile that glowed brighter than a Chinchou, his hand ripping the door open with a bang. He laughed over his father's loud complaints of being "reckless as usual," tearing out across the porch and down the rocky path that led to the shore.

\- - -

Beads of sweat ran down Guzma's forehead as he leaned back, checking the sun's position to see just how much time had passed. He had no luck in even seeing a wimpod so far, but he could afford to be patient. It would be awhile before the tides got this low again.

Just as he stood up straight, a quick flash from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Guzma turned slowly, facing the direction where he thought he'd seen movement. Sure enough, a small wimpod sat in the sun just a few yards down the beach, seemingly unconcerned about any 11 year old boys potentially running after it.

Guzma squatted slowly and shaded his eyes with his hand, slowly moving towards the Pokémon. The wimpod twitched, suddenly looking in his direction before dashing down the beach, leaving small dust trails in its wake.

"W-Wait, no! Come back here, little guy!!" Guzma cried out, his feet pounding as he ran across the shoreline, doing his best to catch up to the fast little bug speeding away from him.

The wimpod turned sharply and skittered underneath a slick rock. Its tendrils twitching anxiously as it examined its would-be captor. Guzma panted, leaning against the rock as he caught his breath. No longer gasping for air, he crouched down again, the wimpod's eyes glittering with suspicion.

"Aw... Come on out, mister. It's okay. I won't hurt ya."

It cautiously poked its feelers out onto the sand, making sure there was no other threat to itself besides the gangly, gap toothed boy still staring at him from his crouched position in front of the rock. It inched closer, legs shuffling quietly as the small Pokémon approached Guzma's feet.

The wimpod lifted its small head in the air slightly, almost as if it was sniffing to see if the boy smelled dangerous. To Guzma's surprise, the Pokémon seemed to curl up at his feet, antenna becoming still and calm. Had he... Did this little bug trust him?

His eyes widened in wonder. The young boy grinned from ear to ear, beaming down at his new friend with its eyes now closed and breathing softly. "I knew I could do it," he breathed. "I didn't even hafta use a ball."

\- - - - - -

"This better be worth it," Guzma mumbled to himself. He slid from his "throne" with a heavy thump, his roughened high tops hitting the loosened floorboards.

An anxious looking Grunt had run into his room a few moments before, chattering on about old Kukui wanting a battle at Malie Gardens. His grunts may not be the smartest of kids, but they knew better than to challenge an experienced trainer like Kukui head on.

Still, he thought, he wasn't any match for Guzma. Not then, not now or ever.

He headed to the closest bus stop, glowering at the driver when he had tried to tell Guzma that he was short on bus fare. He sat in the back, as usual, listening to music through his headphones at a volume much louder than necessary.

\- - -

Guzma flexed, arms over his head as he studied the solid stance of the hopeful in front of him. The trainer's thumb ran over their Pokéball in circles, fingers running through their dark hair. They didn't break eye contact with him as his gaze ran up and down their figure, noticing their foreign fashion choice and pale skin. Definitely not a long time native of the islands. _So this is the little punk I've been hearing about? Kukui doesn't usually pick squirts this small._

Still, the young trainer's eyes shone with a sparkle Guzma hadn't had since he'd challenged a boy in a red cap who visited the islands 10 years ago. The long forgotten memory caused a small smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth. His Golisopod assumed his familiar battle stance at his side, mouth parts clicking with thinly veiled anticipation.

"So... you're ready for a challenge, huh, kid?" Guzma cracked his knuckles and jeered. Though he wouldn't admit it outright, something was different about this one. He could feel it.

_Today's gonna be a good day._


End file.
